Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series) (34 page)

“How can you be sure Michael won’t go after him or anyone else?” I don’t want to ask what my brain is screaming:
Did he kill Stevie?
Because I think I know and I can’t deal with that right now. The fact or the lie.

He runs a hand through his hair.
“We have people keeping an eye on everyone.”

I gulp despite how dry my mouth is.
“How long was I asleep?”

“
Four days,” he says quietly.

“
So why the hell did this happen?” There’s no other way I can word it to encompass everything I want to know.

“
Michael does this sometimes.” He breathes in for longer than he has to. “He turns people, doesn’t feed them, and sets them loose on a human.”

I struggle to hold my head up.
“Why didn’t he just kill me?”

Myles stands and cautiously takes my hand, staring at the scraped up fingers
“We don’t know. When Evan got there, Boo and you were the only ones in the room,” he says. “Boo was unconscious and you were losing blood. . .”

“
How did Evan get in without being invited?”

Myles shrugs.
“You might have invited him in.”

And I don’t remember.

“I can’t.” It just leaves my mouth. Then I take my hand out of his and cover my eyes with it. “This is so screwed up.”

I hear him slowly shift his weight from leg to leg.
“We’re trying to figure everything out,” he whispers.

I take a deep breath, let it out. Blink twice. I uncover my eyes and stand on my shaking legs.

Myles follows me, more anxious than he was a second ago when I was in bed. “What are you doing?” He tries to grab onto my arm, but I move out of his reach.

“
I’ve been asleep for four days,” I say. “I have to pee.”

I take a few seconds to steady myself. Other than dull aching in my
knees, I can hobble around just fine. I spot my black duffle bag on the floor near the nightstand.

“
Are those mine?” I ask.

Myles nods.

Bending down, I grab a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Some other things of mine are in the bag: a notebook, some underwear, mostly pajamas and a few pairs of jeans.

“
Are you showering too?” he asks. “You still might be too weak for that.”

I don’t answer him; instead I ask,
“Where’s my phone?”

“
Sophie,” he says from behind me. “Maybe you should slow down.”

I spin around to where Myles is giving me a startled look.
“I’m going to need my phone if I’m going to make up some bullshit about where I went.”

Myles places his hands on both of my shoulders and I want to push him away, but I’m afraid it’ll throw me off balance.

“Maybe you should sit down,”  he says.

“
No. I want my phone,” I say like he can’t understand me. “I want to call Jade to tell him I’m okay.” I realize that Jade was the one that answered the phone. “He’s got to be worried.”

Myles blinks a few times.
“I can’t give it to you. Not until I know that you’re safe.”

My heart pounds very hard only once, then dies down to a dull panic as a lump forms in my throat.
“I can just tell him that I’m okay,” I repeat. “I called him before. He’s probably worried.” I swallow hard.

“
He knows you’re alright,” Myles whispers. “He called me to ask if everything was okay.”

I cross my arms and my wrists hurt.
“What did you tell him?”

He backs away from me an inch, letting go.
“That you were upset about Stevie and were calling to tell him you needed some time alone.”

Before I can give him a response, he says,
“I know you’re confused and angry, but it was the only way to keep everyone safe.”

“
So,” I feel myself sinking to the floor, but thankfully, Myles doesn’t touch me. “I’m just supposed to stay here until what, Michael forgets that he wants to kill me?”

Myles takes a step forward, but the look I shoot him makes him retreat.
“Just until we know why he let you live,” he says quietly.

Silence hangs between us for the longest minute.

“Well,” I whisper, getting to my feet again. I clear my throat so my voice will work. “I guess I’ll just take a shower then.” I grab the whole duffle bag this time, pushing past him. He doesn’t try to stop me as I lock myself in the bathroom.

I stare down at the white and blue tiled floor as I try to breathe evenly. It’s a large room with a shower in the corner. Across from it is a sink and mirror.

Taking a deep breath, I sit on the closed toilet seat next to the tub, suddenly realizing how hot I am. I strip off my sweat pants and long sleeved shirt, taking the opportunity to inspect my body as I let the water run on cold in the bath.

When I peel off the gauze on my arms, there isn’t any evidence of what I’ve been through besides a few blue threads poking out here and there, a few scabs, and a few bruises. The same can be said for my neck, chest, torso, and legs. My back has a few marks on it, but they’re all on the surface and not deep enough to ruin my wings. This is one of the only things I have to comfort me.

I throw out the pound of bandages in the basket near the sink, avoiding the mirror on purpose. I hop into the cold stream of the shower, pulling the curtain around myself like I can shut everything out with it.

Within three minutes of standing, the muscles in my arms and legs ache like I ran a marathon without warming up. But it’s nothing compared to how much my head is beginning to pound. The light bouncing off of the white tiles on the wall next to me makes my head spin, and there’s a cramp forming in my right calf. I have to brace my palm against the wall as freezing water hits me in the face and runs down my neck.

I knew this before, but I forced myself to not have time to deal with it. Myles
lied
to me. About Michael, about God knows what else. I’ve made mistakes too, but nothing like this. Did he do it to protect me? And if so, from what? How much good could it have done to lie about Michael wanting me dead—
waiting
 for the right time to kill me—if he was going to do it anyway?

I think about curling up in a ball on the floor and crying for a while, but there’s no point in that. My life will still be the same whether I cry or not.

I cut the water and dry off, accidentally glancing at my reflection in the mirror. My lips are chapped and as pale as the rest of my face. There are dark circles around the green of my eyes. My neck and collarbone are purple and black, and it hurts when I touch it. I really don’t want to think about how the marks got there, or anywhere else, so I settle on changing into a new pair of pajamas.

I throw on a plain black bra and underwear, t
hen my jeans, along with a grey Misfits tank top that used to be a shirt, but I cut the arms off and the neck out when I was in middle school. Jesus. Did Myles bring all of my clothes from my apartment? How long does he think I’ll be here? Maybe I don’t want to know.

Before I can dwell on that any longer, I find a toothbrush, still in its packaging, sitting on the sink, so I squirt some toothpaste onto it and brush my teeth. When I lean over to spit, the cramp in my calf moves to my shin, turning into a full on spasm, and my right leg gives out.

Unraveling

Chapter 15

“The saddest thing is all of this could have been avoided.”—Gotye

I wake up in the same bed I was in before with my shin on fire, but I can’t move. My brain is foggy, and one look at my arm tells me why. The IV’s back; the liquid pouring into me is now clear. I try to pick up my head, but that only makes my entire body shake. Phyllis is in the room with me, sitting in the chair near the bed.

“
Now don’t try moving, sweetie,” she says. She’s wearing a sundress and flip flops.

I want to ask what’s going on, but I can’t get words out of my mouth.

“If you just lie still, the medicine will start working.”

My cheeks are wet. I’m crying again.

I hear Myles, somewhere in living room area. I can’t lift my head enough to see him.

“
I know. Yes.” He must be on phone. “Hurry.”

I’m beginning to drift off again when a shooting pain jolts from my calf to my kneecap. I can’t help whimpering and crying like an infant; it’s that bad.

Phyllis is on her feet, moving toward the IV stand and fiddling with something near it.

Myles moves too fast for me to see, coming to stand at Phyllis’ side.

He sits down carefully, touching my face. I welcome the small comfort.

“
It’s okay,” he says.

I try to sit up again to see my leg. The blanket feels like a ten pound weight.
“What’s going on?” I struggle to say as he tries to get me to be still by pushing my shoulders down into the mattress.

“
I gave her more morphine,” Phyllis says, “but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“
It’s okay,” he repeats, his eyes fixed on me. “It should soon.”

Well that explains nothing, and I feel like punching him as I tell him so, but a new, more intense pain rolls through my shin to my ankle. This time, I start screaming.

Myles leaves my side for a second and the blanket moves. The moment it slips off, my leg feels less tight and heavy. Then he rips my jeans to above my knee, the sound cutting through everything. The cramping finally subsides. I try to look down to see if there’s some kind of mark or something, but I can’t lift my head enough.

“
Is that a little better?” Myles’ voice is soft.

I nod. He kneels down so our heads are on the same level and he strokes my hair. I turn to look at him.
“Please tell me what’s going on.” My voice comes out in a breathless blur.

“
We’re not sure,” he says, grabbing hold of my hand. I’m starting to feel tired and the pain is turning into more of a dull throb. “Evan’s going to help.”

I gulp, waiting for him to continue, staring at him as my eyelids are getting heavier.

“We have to take the stitches out to see what’s going on. It’s going to be okay.” Myles brushes damp hair from my forehead.

“
What?”

“
It’s alright,” Phyllis joins in.

I drift off for minutes or hours, thankful that I don’t have to be awake for a while. That is, until the pain comes rushing back into my leg.

I wake up crying, whimpering, as the searing, hot bolt jabs into me.

Myles is holding my arms down once again, standing to the side of me.
“It’s okay,” he repeats.

Phyllis is gone, replaced by Evan.
 

“
How long?” I hear him say. He takes the seat near the bed and unceremoniously removes what I can see is a now blood soaked pad of gauze from my shin.

“
About an hour, but it’s not constant,” Myles answers. His hands have a firm grip on me. It isn’t painful, just frustrating. “But she’s been out for at least four days,” he continues when I can’t move anymore. “If it’s in there, it’s been in there since you found her.”

Wait. Hold on a second.

“What?” I ask breathlessly. “What the hell are you talking about?” My voice becomes fractionally stronger as the pain dulls.

Evan perks his head up, about to glare at Myles but he thinks twice about it.

Myles’ eyes shoot to his direction. I can tell by their expressions that they’re  having some sort of private conversation that I can’t be a part of.

“
She’s been out,” Myles says, I’m guessing for my benefit. “I haven’t had a chance to tell her.”

His grip on me loosens enough so I can at least lift my head off of the pillow.

“Well,” I chime in. “Someone better tell me what the
fuck
is going on.”

My eyes shift from one to the other but they’re too busy staring each other down to notice.

Finally, Evan turns his head to face me. Myles’ expression protests the gesture, but he says nothing.

“
We think there is a fang in your leg,” Evan says.

“
Uh.” I swallow hard. “What?” I try sitting myself up, but my elbows won’t lock.

Myles comes forward, lifting me under the arms and propping a pillow behind my back. He sits down carefully near my knee. Now when I stare down at my shin, there’s a new pad of gauze covering part of it.

“The ones who hurt you were most likely very weak,” Myles starts before taking a deep breath. “If you were struggling…”

“
You’re saying some vampire’s fang popped off in my leg?” My voice scrapes through my throat like there are shards of glass attached to it.

Myles closes his mouth so he doesn’t say anything else. He nods.